


Melt into the Slide

by doctor_jasley



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Human Experimentation, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pandemics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor_jasley/pseuds/doctor_jasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dry, dusty air hits his face and Spencer sighs. There’s a long road flowing right in front of him, other tiny access roads breaking off from it and slithering every which way imaginable, rushing off into the distance to get away from their origin. The right choice could be any of the smaller paved roads, but fuck if Spencer knows which one it is so he just stays on the main stretch of highway until it abruptly ends. Well, shit...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melt into the Slide

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for No_Tags 2011 for the prompt Brendon/Spencer Lost

Dry, dusty air hits his face and Spencer sighs. There’s a long road flowing right in front of him, other tiny access roads breaking off from it and slithering every which way imaginable, rushing off into the distance to get away from their origin. The right choice could be any of the smaller paved roads, but fuck if Spencer knows which one it is so he just stays on the main stretch of highway until it abruptly ends. Well, shit...

He backtracks to one of the last tiny access roads that he passed what feels like hours ago and the moment his foot touches the cracked surface of the asphalt he knows he’s going in the right direction. He’s going to kill Brendon when they get out of here. The desert is his least favorite training level in the T Zones.

His shirt’s sticking to his back and his hair is plastered to his face from how badly he’s sweating. It’s not comfortable at all. The sun is high up in the sky and baking everything to a crisp. He Is Going To Kill Brendon for this. Spencer doesn’t know he’s talking to himself until the first echos of sound startles him in the silence of the sweltering desert.

_“Come on Spence, it’ll be easy. A quick in and out and we’ll be done with our hours for the week. I know the way, Promises. We Won’t get lost.”_

The sound of his voice does little to curb his irritation. He’s not happy with his field partner up and vanishing on him. Brendon knows he doesn’t like to be alone in the T Zones. There’s really no true chance of danger here since they’re in training mode, but it’s the principle of the matter. Brendon _knows_ Spencer hates weaving through the mazes of the subconscious without a guide, and he’s nowhere to be found.

Spencer’s lost and he knows it. There’s a reason each Finder has a Maze Walker with them. Finders are good at digging for someone’s buried essence and dragging that wisp of humanity back out into reality again. The problem is, most Finders are shit at direction in the Temporal Head Space. That’s why they’re assigned a Maze Walker to see them through it.

The road smooths out in front of him and a massive, bright green hedge pops up at the edge of the blacktop. Spencer isn’t really paying attention to his steps, much too caught up in watching the hedge leaves ruffle in a breeze, which is stupid because even if he’s safe in Brendon’s head that doesn’t mean he can’t stumble into nasty or complicated things. His left foot splashes into a puddle and in seconds he’s pulled under.

The memory is soggy and wet. It clings to his bones and makes him shiver. Spencer remembers this day. There’s no way he could ever forget it. This was when he met Brendon for the first time.

_Rain’s pouring outside and Spencer hates his life. He’s twenty and if no Maze Walker selects him soon then he’s shit out of luck. He’s a Finder and has known what he was ever since one of his sisters fell into a trance and wouldn’t wake up. He would dream of her trapped in a glass mirror banging and banging to be let out. If he can’t get certified to pull people out of their own personally made mental prisons then there’s no telling where he’ll end up._

Spencer watches as Director Wentz and Doctor Way walk by him talking with a much younger version of himself before twisting the handle of a near by door and pushing it open. He’s confused now because when he falls into his memories everyone notices him and they usually talk to him as if he’s just another bystander in the play back. Brendon’s memories, on the other hand, are the ones that unfold like scratchy old home movies. You can’t touch them or interact with them at all.

Which, ok, makes sense. He must have switched perspectives. Sometimes it’s hard parsing out what is his subconscious or what is Brendon’s. They melt and blend together as seamless as Doctor Way and Researcher Way do and no one knows what to do with them most days. Spencer’s not going to complain about any of that because Brendon’s his other half, and he’ll take all the freaky side affects willingly.

_Brendon’s sitting on a cot dressed in clothes that don’t fit him. His hair is slowly drying and it’s driving him crazy. He just wants to go back to the pool and play with the children. They’re so lonely. He should be paying attention to the guy sitting in the chair near him, who’s been typing something into the handheld pad cradled in his hands when he’s not pushing the frame of his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but he’s too busy listening to the sounds of foot falls down the hall outside the tiny room he’s been locked in. They’re coming to drag him back. He doesn’t want to go back._

_The door opens and three people step in and the guy who was sitting gets up. Brendon thinks sitting guy introduced himself as Mikey or something when he first sat down. Brendon wasn’t exactly paying attention though. He was too caught up in noticing the warm fabric of the clean clothes he was wearing to be bothered with learning a name he would never need._

_When Mikey gets to the door he leans into the space of the guy wearing a white lab coat and whispers something into the other guy’s ear before slipping out. It doesn’t escape Brendon’s notice that personal space isn’t an issue with them. He files it away as something to remember._

_The shortest of the three drags the metal chair over until it’s right in front of him. The chair makes the awfullest sound. Brendon winces as the guy sits down introduces himself as Director Wentz and holds his hand out. Possibly for a shake, but Brendon doesn’t pay any attention to it because the guy standing back near the closed door grabs his focus._

_It’s been such a long time since he’s been in the same room as an actual finder that everything whites out on him._

Spencer coughs and sputters, water trickling down his face while he heaves heavy, wet sighs into the dry asphalt. He’s never seen the memories like that before. Him and Brendon explore their own past together often, because secrets and blind spots could get them trapped, but he’s never actually been privy to every part of that memory. And it makes him wonder if Brendon’s been holding out on him. Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if he is, because Brendon’s had a lot happen to him. It took over a year for him to break down the majority of his boundaries just for Spencer to get close. Some days it makes Spencer want to torture the people who taught Brendon to be so wary and closed off emotionally and mentally.

His fingers clench into fists when he climbs up to his feet and starts to walk towards the mass of foliage that’s still in front of him. Anger’s always the first emotion that hits him when he’s reminded of how Brendon came to be working at the Temporal Studies Department. Experiments on potential Maze Walkers have been outlawed for about as long as the trance sickness has been running rampant. That doesn’t mean it stops people from running their own underground studies and experiments. Brendon’s lucky to be alive and mostly sane, because the tests are never safe nor are they gentle.

The hedge opens up when Spencer tangles his fingers into the bramble and pulls lightly. He’s still lost but the tug, tug, tug that usually shows up when he’s close to finding what he’s been sent in for is starting to thrum thinly in his veins. Lost or not, he’s closer than he was at the beginning, which is better than nothing. If only Brendon would show up already.

Brightly colored neon flamingos flock past him when he pushes into the hedge maze though the small opening. It makes him smile, because only in Brendon’s easy, level one mock maze would there be flamingos dancing around chasing each other. At least in here, Spencer knows his way. They’ve practiced, trained, and warmed up in this level enough times for him to be comfortable here. 

Two turns left, a double back through a hidden maze door, and Spencer’s standing right in front of the rose tree that opens the exit. His hand twists the branch with the most white roses on it and the maze starts to disintegrate and blow away in the breeze, greens and whites drifting by in a haze.

Before he can step out and go to the next area -the tug thrumming loud enough for him to hear it- one of the melting flamingos nips at his wrist to get a decent hold and smashes him against the still standing rose tree. Bright yellow stars fall down around him and he’s shoved into another memory.

_Brendon’s frantic and his hands are covered in blood. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were supposed to be safe. He was free now. Director Wentz had said so after the hearings had given Brendon his citizenship back and sent the researchers who tested on him to prison. He doesn’t feel like it though. Not right now._

_Maggie is trying to calm him down with shushes of ‘You’re home now. You don’t have to worry about anything anymore.’_

_Brendon wants to worry. He needs to worry. Spencer’s here somewhere and he’s hurt. Brendon has to find him. It’s the only thought that whirls through his head. Maggie won’t let him leave though. She’s got him strapped down to one of the medical beds and doesn’t seem to care that he’s thrashing about like a fish dying on dry land._

_He sees the needle out of the corner of his eye and fights harder. He doesn’t want to forget. He can’t forget. Pain blooms bright the moment it sinks into his skin and everything swirls away._

Spencer remembers this. Being shot wasn’t fun at all. He’d been so freaked out about Brendon being taken away and dragged back into the illegal testing, that he’d almost taken out Ryan when he and Jon had showed up as their security detail. The three of them together got Brendon out. Afterwards, him and Brendon had sessions with the resident shrink for months. Spencer still, years later, dreams about it occasionally.

Instead of ending, the memory keeps playing and playing. However, it’s different. Spencer doesn’t limp into the lab with Ryan and Jon in front of him with their guns pointed at the doctor standing over Brendon.

None of them are there and the lady doctor, Spencer thinks Brendon once said her name was Maggie, goes through a set of three different drugs before mixing them together and injecting Brendon with them. Time flows slowly and when Brendon wakes up his face is blank and empty.

Suddenly everything splinters and shatters, shards of the visual raining into Spencer’s hair before everything calms down and goes silent. There’s nothing for miles and miles in any direction. Just a tall field with wind swept grasses swaying back and forth in a breeze. It’s not cold but Spencer shakes anyways. He’s known that Brendon has nightmares. They both do. Brendon’s even accidentally fallen into a few of his when they drift asleep at night, but Spencer’s never actually been in one of Brendon’s long enough to notice anything. He’s always chalked it up to Brendon being different and not having control over accidentally tripping into other peoples dreams. But maybe he was wrong.

Sitting in the field is calming and Spencer wonders if maybe Brendon got lost as well, because he should have showed up by now. Brendon always likes to try new things and switch up their training modes so it’s a shuffle of who’s conscious they’re in that changes each time they go in. He says it’s to keep them on their toes, but Spencer thinks it’s Brendon’s way of pushing himself. It would make sense if he finally pushed too far and got caught in the mire of their collective consciousness.

Time means nothing here, and there’s no way to tell how long he’s been sitting in the field when things start to change out of the corner of his right eye. Brick by brick and beam by beam a house builds itself until there’s an exact replica of their quaint little home, the one they share with Ryan and Jon, standing off to the right of the field. No other houses appear.

The thrum gets so loud that Spencer can’t even hear the wind moving through the grass that’s slowly starting to wilt into the cracking ground. He’s close to finding what he’s here for. He’s pretty sure what he’s looking for is Brendon. 

It takes three steps for him to reach the welcome mat that’s splattered with spots of faded sky blue paint from when Doctor Way came by to paint blue clouds on their ceiling because Brendon had mentioned something about not liking ceilings because they made him feel trapped and caged in. The door opens without him even having to touch it and he’s greeted with a sound he only hears in his own private fantasies.

_Spencer’s got Brendon pushed up against the living room wall and they’re kissing. Brendon’s making these little breathy sighs against his cheek when they have to break apart to breathe or suffer from asphyxiation and it’s so damn hot. Seriously Spencer’s about to die. Brendon fumbles a hand between them to start trying to open Spencer’s fly and suddenly everything is lightning fast._

_Brendon’s hand feels good and Spencer can’t help but surge forward to kiss him again. He loves when they’re like this. Not that he isn’t also pretty fond of when they’re in bed and have all the time in the world to just go slow and explore. But yeah, fast is good and it doesn’t take long before he’s coming apart, sagging against Brendon and panting declarations of love into the damp fabric of his faded tee._

If he could blush any brighter, Spencer’s sure he’d be a display Christmas tree sitting proudly behind one of the Poli-glass windows of the Holidays R US store. There’s no telling if this is his fantasy or Brendon’s. But it can’t possibly be Brendon’s because Spencer does his damnedest not to dream or fantasize about Brendon if he’s around, so there’s no way this could have mixed and bled together in the way most of their dreams and sleeping thoughts do. Which means this is all him, unless Brendon’s been thinking the same things and is afraid to say anything.

It’s not that Spencer’s against telling Brendon that he’s pretty much in love with him. It’s more that he doesn’t want to lose his partner over something as trivial as sex. Sure Spencer really likes sex but he doesn’t need it to survive. However, he’s pretty sure without Brendon around he’d be more lost than he is in this botched, weekly training exercise. So he hasn’t said anything, but maybe he should.

All he needs to do is find his real Brendon and they can leave. Hopefully, Ryan hasn’t burned the kitchen down around them trying to use the instant toast toaster. Before he can make his way near the staircase that leads to their bedrooms, the scene in front of him starts up again. Everything is the same except for the last bit which changes into something that has Spencer unable to move.

Fantasy him starts to come down and instead of kissing Brendon and folding down to his knees the way Spencer always imagines in his head during these moments, he stills before pushing away and walking off without a word. Brendon sags down the wall, glasses askew and tears welling up behind them. Spencer can’t watch this happen, but he can’t touch this Brendon and he can’t run off and drag fantasy him back either. Sometimes he really hates that he can’t interact with Brendon’s mental projections. It would make things easier from time to time.

The scene loops and Spencer goes upstairs to find it empty. However, when he looks out their bedroom window he sees Brendon, real Brendon, swinging on some empty playground equipment, a cobbled together swing set that could be an exact replica of the one three streets over at the local park. He’s not even conscious of moving until he’s watching the same loop from before when he comes down the stairs.

Outside it’s chilly, and Spencer plops down in the empty swing before reaching out and snagging Brendon’s hand when it sails by. There’s no way Brendon noticed him when he sat down. Spencer hasn’t found him yet until he can get a good hold of what he needs to touch. However, when their hands slip into each other Brendon startles and almost falls out of his swing. Spencer does his best to steady the both of them, which isn’t particularly easy to do when swinging.

They end up twisting the swings’ chains, lacing their legs together to make one lazy side swing. Spencer’s not lost anymore, and it’s not just because he’s found what he was supposed to find. He has Brendon. He always has and always will.

But that’s not why he’s finally where he needs to be. Intentionally or not, Brendon’s shown him three things that he’s been holding in. A memory of a beginning, a nightmare of a rocky middle, and a fear of a messy end. Spencer has never been one to waste the knowledge he comes across and that goes double for everything he has and would like to have with Brendon.

They’re leaning close and Spencer presses his forehead against Brendon’s. They’re looking at each other and Spencer knows the moment it clicks for Brendon, because their bodies sway with the motion of Brendon trying to climb into his lap, like some type of freaky tree monkey. His movement tumbles them to the ground in a heap of limbs, their laughter ringing up into the empty space around them as they fall.

Spencer kisses Brendon once before wrapping him up in a tight hug and whispering into his ear.

“I love you. Can we wake up now?”


End file.
